"And when you did say it, you heard Rugge's language to me--to you.
And now you must think of packing up, and be off at dawn with the rest.
And," added the comedian, colouring high, "I must again parade, to boors
and clowns, this mangled form; again set myself out as a spectacle of
bodily infirmity,--man's last degradation. And this I have come to--I!"

"No, no, Grandy, it will not last long! we will get the three pounds.
We have always hoped on!--hope still! And, besides, I am sure those
gentlemen will come here tonight. Mr. Merle said they would, at ten
o'clock. It is near ten now, and your tea cold as a stone."

She hung on his neck caressingly, kissing his furrowed brow, and leaving
a tear there, and thus coaxed him till he set-to quietly at his meal;
and Sophy shared it--though she had no appetite in sorrowing for
him--but to keep him company; that done, she lighted his pipe with the
best canaster,--his sole luxury and expense; but she always contrived
that he should afford it.

Mr. Waife drew a long whiff, and took a more serene view of affairs.
He who doth not smoke hath either known no great griefs, or refuseth
himself the softest consolation, next to that which comes from Heaven.
"What, softer than woman?" whispers the young reader. Young reader,
woman teases as well as consoles. Woman makes half the sorrows which she
boasts the privilege to soothe. Woman consoles us, it is true, while we
are young and handsome! when we are old and ugly, woman snubs and scolds
us. On the whole, then, woman in this scale, the weed in that, Jupiter,
hang out thy balance, and weigh them both; and if thou give the
preference to woman, all I can say is, the next time Juno ruffles
thee,--O Jupiter, try the weed.

CHAPTER VII.

The historian, in pursuance of his stern duties, reveals to the
scorn of future ages some of the occult practices which discredit
the march of light in the nineteenth century.

"May I come in?" asked the Cobbler, outside the door. "Certainly come
in," said Gentleman Waife. Sophy looked wistfully at the aperture, and
sighed to see that Merle was alone. She crept up to him.

"Will they not come?" she whispered. "I hope so, pretty one; it be n't
ten yet."

"Take a pipe, Merle," said Gentleman Waife, with a Grand Comedian air.

"No, thank you kindly; I just looked in to ask if I could do anything
for ye, in case--in case ye must go tomorrow."

"Nothing: our luggage is small, and soon pac